


Six String Hero

by collarsandplaid



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Bonding, But Loves These Dorks, David Tries So Hard, David's Guitar is Too Big, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gratuitous Swearing, Guitars, Gwen is Tired, Hurt/Comfort, Max Finds Something He Likes, Max is so Small, NOT A MAXVID, Ukulele
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:44:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collarsandplaid/pseuds/collarsandplaid
Summary: Max is secretly fascinated by the guitar, not that he'd ever admit that to David.(Inspired by Malwur's fanart explaining why Max plays the ukulele.)





	1. Not That Song Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max really hates the Camp Campbell theme song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little late to the Camp Camp fanfiction bandwagon, but I am just as eager to keep this fandom alive through this hiatus as you are.
> 
> As mentioned, this story is heavily inspired by Malwur's fanart. Granted, real ten year olds aren't so tiny and plenty can play the guitar incredibly well with no problem. But I'm using the dimensions created by RoosterTeeth to justify this story's plot: Max is small and David's guitar is big.

 

 “Ooohhh~!” David sang with a beaming smile.

The group of campers sitting in front of Camp Campbell’s poor excuse for a makeshift theatre simultaneously groaned as, up on stage, David strummed the first note on his guitar. What better way to introduce the start of today’s Music Camp then with music, and what better song was there to sing then Camp Campbell’s very own theme song which David had lovingly and meticulously created.

“No fucking way!” A curse shouted from the crowd. David paused, fingers locked on the next chord; his other hand poised in the air and ready to swipe at the strings. His attention and all that of the campers turned to face the owner of the all too familiar voice.

Standing up on the wooden bench, finger pointing accusingly at David, Max loomed with all the fury a small ten year old boy could contain (too much fury if you asked David). Brows furrowed over piecing teal eyes, the boy’s expression was the epitome of hate and David reflexively flinched back away from the might of that glare.

“I am not listening to that shit song one more fucking time!” Max bellowed, fingers curling into fists that shook angrily in the air.

Before David could condemn the boy for his poor language (and especially in front of his fellow young and impressionable campers), Max gave a snap of his fingers and again pointed at David, this time with a devious smirk turning his expression insidious. David swallowed nervously.

“Nikki,” Max commanded, “Fetch.”

From seemingly out of nowhere the lithe green-haired girl lunged onto the stage, landing on all fours and growling ferociously. She snapped her teeth at David in perfect imitation of the many wolves the girl seemed able to tame and control.

David let out a rather unmanly yelp and his drew his legs up off the ground and tried to shift on the stool he sat on to better balance his weight. He gripped his guitar tightly in front of him as if it would protect him from the feral girl.

With a snarl, Nikki sprang at David, tiny body landing perfectly on the back of the guitar. David let out another screech as she dug her claws into the wood and clamped her teeth tight around the guitar’s neck, the strings groaning against the abuse.

“Nikki, wait, you’ll get teeth marks in it,” David whined, holding the guitar away from him to make some distance between him and Nikki’s bite.

All he could see of her was her eyes shining bright with mischief and pride in what she was about to accomplish. With a thrash of her head and a twist of her body, Nikki tore the guitar out of David’s hands and jumped back down to the stage floor.

With a happy yip and not even a backwards glance, Nikki raced across the stage and leapt off, guitar still in her teeth. She landed gracefully. The guitar didn’t. David could hear the sickening thud and the crack of protesting word from where he was still perched on his chair.

“Way to go, Nikki,” Max praised with that coy smirk. The girl pranced over to him and dropped the guitar at his feet. “I owe you big for this.” The surrounding campers gave their applause at such a feat and in gratitude for having been spared from listening to the song David was constantly singing (in hopes of encouraging the love of Camp Campbell, in case anyone cared to know).

“Max,” David admonished, finally unfurling from his seat and stomping to the edge of the stage to glare down at the boy. Hands on his hips, David aimed for intimidating, or at least authoritative as he caught the boy’s eyes; David’s guitar in Max’s hands. “You know it’s not nice to take something that doesn’t belong to you. That guitar happens to be very important to me and I’d appreciate it if you gave it back.”

“Fuck you, David,” Max sneered in reply. “Go suck a dick.”

And with two insults given in the span of one breath, Max turned on his heel and started running as fast as he could, dragging the guitar that was bigger than he was behind him. The instrument bumped along and struck every rock Max deliberately ran over.

“Max, stop!” David shouted in alarm as he jumped down and started after the boy, ignoring the cheers around him that encouraged Max to “Run!” and “Smash it!” and “Throw it in the lake!” Gwen could handle them. Right now, he needed to stop Max and save his guitar from whatever fate the boy had in store for it.

Max made a beeline for Lake Lilac, clearly deciding that with David hot on his heels and no time to properly dismantle the instrument, the fastest way to remove the threat of having to hear that stupid theme song again was to toss the guitar into the grimy water and let the mud and gunk of the lake handle the rest.

“Max, please, stop!” David pleaded, hand reaching out for the boy and his guitar. “Don’t break it!” His heart, filling with dread, felt like it was swelling into his throat and his bade his long legs to run faster.

Max shot a mocking smile over his shoulder at the pursuing counselor as his feet hit the wooden planks of the dock and kept going. He skidded to a stop at the edge, holding the guitar out over the water before turning back to grin wickedly at David.

“Not another step, asshole,” Max threatened and David froze to the spot, a mere three feet or so away from Max.

If he surged forward, he might be able to grab the boy in time, but Max was fast and could easily dunk the guitar before David could catch it. Plus, grabbing at the guitar now would not help David in the long run, nor would it depict to Max the proper way to request the return of a stolen item. So, despite his reflexes telling him to move, David swallowed heavily and stayed still.

“Max, don’t drop it, please,” David tried again to plea, “I’ll – I’ll play something else.”

Max lowered the guitar towards the water and one of the gently lapping waves splashed up against the worn wood.

“I won’t play anything at all!” David amended quickly in a higher octave, panic shining into his eyes. He held his open palms out to Max in a placating motion. “Please, don’t.”

“What so special about this stupid thing anyway?” Max almost shrugged, gaze bored. He’d have likely had one hand stuck in the pocket of his blue hoodie if he didn’t need both to hang on to the guitar.

“Please,” David whimpered, crouching down to Max’s level, hands still out. “It’s the only one I have. Gwen broke my last one and I don’t have enough money right now to buy a new one.”

“So there’s nothing special about this particular guitar,” Max mused thoughtfully. “You just replace them as you see fit. No real sentimental value, then. About as important as a toothbrush, huh?”

“No!” David cried out as the bottom of the guitar touched the water. He wasn’t sure if Max was doing it on purpose or maybe if the big guitar was just getting too heavy for the boy to keep aloft. “No,” he repeated softer, more meaningfully. “It’s not something I can easily replace. I only do it when I absolutely have to. Because I have to have one with me at all times.” 

Something in Max’s face flickered and the deep-set glee in his eyes at having David literally down on his knees and begging waned to be replaced with confusion. The set of his smirk faltered and became a little more unsure.

“Why?” Max asked seriously.

David struggled for a coherent answer, his eyes darting about, his body wavering in the desire to save the guitar and yet still share this honest moment with Max: one of the few he’s had since summer camp started and he wasn’t going to risk it now. For lack of a better answer, David simply replied with, “I need it.”

“Why?” Max asked again, eyes squinting in suspicion, but the heat of his glare was gone.

David ducked his head, again trying to find the right words to adequately explain why just the sight of the water damage currently affecting his guitar and why the simple thought of it sinking down to the murky depths of the lake – the wood eroding, the strings and tuning pegs rusting, the sound hole filling up with sludge – made his heart twist and his stomach roil. He wrung his hands helplessly. Max was staring at him with open curiosity, waiting.

“I guess it makes me feel…” David searched for the word, “…safe. Just knowing I have it and can play whenever I feel like it makes me feel better.”

Max took a step away from the edge of the pier and eased the guitar up out of the water. The boy was pointedly avoiding eye contact with David, choosing instead to watch droplets of lake-water drip off the bottom of the guitar to leave faints dots of moisture on the wooden pier. David felt his heart soar and spirits lift at the sight. Not only was his guitar out of immediate danger, but perhaps he had just made a connection with Max.

“MAX!” an enraged voice screamed from shore making both camper and counselor flinch.

David and Max looked to the beach to see Gwen in all her irritated glory, fists clenched down at her sides and expression set in an unforgiving glare David could see and feel the heat from where he was still kneeling on the pier.

“YOU GIVE THAT SNIVELING IDIOT HIS GUITAR RIGHT NOW, or so help me, I WILL PERSONALLY MAIL ONE OF PRESTON’S SONGS TO THE FLOWER SCOUTS AND SAY IT WAS FROM YOU!”

Max visibly blanched and David frowned at being referred to as the “sniveling idiot.”

“Gwen, you really shouldn’t threaten the campers. It sets a bad example,” David called back to her, momentarily forgetting about the fate of his guitar in exchange for Max’s innocence (which, despite all the evidence, David was confident still existed and deserved protection).

“Here.”

David turned round again at the single monotonous word. Max was in front of him, holding up the guitar. The boy kept his gaze downward, the fight out of him. David supposed that, in the face of Gwen’s threat, Max could have thrown the instrument down or done some other cosmetic damage that would land him in the loophole of still giving the guitar back, just not as it was. Instead, to David’s delighted surprise, Max was giving the guitar back carefully, keeping it elevated to ensure no further injury was done.

Beaming, David accepted the guitar graciously, lifting it with care from Max’s hands and holding it reverently in his own.

“Thank you, Max,” David enthused with all sincerity.

“Fuck off,” Max intoned with disinterest and sidled past David and back towards the beach where Nikki and Neil waited for him, impatiently waiting for him to explain what happened.

Gwen shook her head first at David and then at Max before stomping away, rubbing at her forehead. Overall, David considered the day a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Damn, couldn't get the pic to center.)
> 
> In all sincere honesty, when I first had the idea and started writing, this story was meant to be a drabble, a one-shot. Alas, I have very little self-control when it comes to writing something short and sweet. So you now get to look forward to eight chapters of this. Sorry.


	2. Everyone Needs a Little Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max goes snooping for more answers. (AKA: the Gwen chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter title is a tip of the ol' hat to Eddsworld. That's about as far as the connections go though.

“Hey, got a minute?” Max intoned, bumping one shoulder up against the door to the communal room in the counselor’s cabin.

Gwen released a rather withering sigh and one hand went up to rub at the pressure already building up at the point between her eyes.

“No, Max, I really don’t. My schedule for the rest of the evening is full.”

She had just settled down onto her designated couch, bathrobe wrapped tight around her after a rushed and lukewarm shower, the newest copy of her magazine perched open and inviting on her knee, and a much needed cup of tea. David had sworn he had bought the tea specifically because it had boasted to relax tense muscles and taut nerves. Clearly, the stuff wasn’t strong enough.

“Does your schedule include reading that crap until David comes in from his nightly rounds?”

“Yes, yes it does.”

“Then you’ve got time.”

Max invited himself in and hopped up onto David’s chair opposite Gwen. He scooted back to rest against the cushions and, with a theatrical sigh, crossed his legs and folded his arms comfortably over his stomach.

“Got any more coffee?”

“Tea, actually.” Gwen was trying really hard to keep her voice level and her temper contained. If she didn’t chip a tooth from how hard she was grinding her teeth, she’d consider that a miracle.

“Pass.”

If David were here, he’d likely offer the boy hot chocolate instead.  He’d probably even a get the kid a blanket to ward of the chill of night before kindly starting up an amicable conversation as to why Max was up and wondering around instead of getting ready for bed in his tent with his friends. But David wasn’t here. And Gwen wasn’t feeling so amicable right now, not when she used her evenings to wind down and separate herself from fucking kids and their bullshit antics; to mentally prepare herself for the knowledge that she’d have to go through this living hell all over again tomorrow, and the next day until summer ended, she was fired, or she straight up killed herself.

“Jesus, Gwen, you okay? You look like you’re about to have an aneurism or something,” Max noted with mild amusement.

The ceramic cup in Gwen’s hand started to groan in her tightening grip.

“Relax, will you,” Max said with a roll of his eyes. He sat up a little straighter and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t come to blackmail you again or anything. Just wanted to ask a question.” He looked oddly serious and the way he glanced away towards the door had Gwen suddenly curious.

“Fine, spit it out,” she sighed with a wave of her hand.

“What has David so invested in that guitar?” Max asked and Gwen tilted her head. Not the route she thought this conversation was going but it was topic she didn’t mind discussing. Better than blackmail.

“He already told me it didn’t matter what guitar he has so long as he has one.”

She considered, momentarily, questioning Max’s sudden interest in David’s hobbies and why the boy had decided to go to her to snoop out his answers rather than David, or use whatever interrogation method he seemed fond of for getting the information he wanted. But, she figured that would close the door shut on Max’s oddly cordial attitude and make him shutdown on her. And she knew what that meant: the distrust returning to his eyes, a cruel and biting remark on his tongue, and the slamming of the cabin door behind him. Rather than go through that drama, she sighed and didn’t fight back.

“It’s his thing.” Gwen answered easily, leaning back into her chair to take a sip from her tea.

“His what?”

“You know, that one thing that keeps him sane in this fucked up world.”

“Anyone that constantly happy and fucking optimistic has to be insane already.”

“True enough,” Gwen agreed with a half-smile. She looked down into the dark water in her cup where a tea bag bobbed. “But having that guitar helps.”

“I thought this shitty camp was his thing.”

“It is. But he can’t take the camp with him wherever his goes.”

“So it’s a distraction.”

“Everyone has one. Hell, I think everyone needs one.”

“Yeah? Then what’s your thing?”

 “Well, for example, to help me deal with the stress of babysitting one child and a group of campers, I have my magazines and trash tv.”

“And obnoxious anime, and stupid British actors, and fucking werewolves or all things.”

“Shut it,” Gwen frowned. “You have your stupid bear.”

Now it was Max’s turn to frown and his glower was back. “Shut it.”

“And David has his guitar,” Gwen concluded with a half-shrug. “It’s his thing. Makes him feel better; feel safe, if you want to go that far.”

“That… actually makes a little more sense than the babble David was spouting.”

Gwen huffed out a chuckle, her voice caught somewhere between disappointment and fondness. “You caught the guy between a rock and a hard place. Poor thing doesn’t do well under pressure.”

“Understatement, but sure, I get your point.”

“Just ease up on him in this case, okay? You wouldn’t like it if someone threatened to throw your bear in the lake, now would you?”

“Firstly, they’d be dead the moment they laid a fucking finger on-”

“Murder isn’t allowed on camp property.” Gwen paused thoughtfully. “Though I should hope that I don’t have to explain that murder is not allowed anywhere. It’s illegal.”

“I get it, I get it.”

With another roll of his eyes, Max hopped off the couch and started for the door. Gwen watched him go, easy smile on her face and nerves surprisingly still intact.

“Hey Max,” Gwen called and the boy gave her a sidelong glance. “I think I like this passive nosiness a lot more than when you go digging through our stuff. Having a decent, honest, conversation to get answers is a lot easier, wouldn’t you say?”

“Get your head out of your ass, Gwen,” Max retorted snidely. “I only asked because you were in here so I couldn’t go searching for the answer myself. Don’t start pretending your psychology major was of any use here.”

Gwen paled at the stab at her (useless) education but didn’t rise to the bait.

“Whatever, you little shit. Go to sleep.”

“Fuck you too, Gwen.”

Gwen turned away to hide her smile at their uncharacteristically cordial goodnights. She didn’t bother turning around again when Max opened the door and it was David’s voice that greeted him.

“Well, hey there Max! What are you doing up so late? Trying to get Gwen to give up the secret of all the fun activities we have planned for tomorrow?”

“Fuck off, David.”

“All right, buddy. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning. Get a good sleep!”

“Hands off!”

Gwen bit back a laugh at David’s oblivious and infallible positivity as she pictured the taller man bending down to ruffle the boy’s hair. Max groaned loudly and stomped away with a last curse slung over his shoulder. David closed the door gently after him.

“Everything all right?” Gwen asked innocently over the rim of her cup, trying to tone down the amusement in her voice.

“Everything’s A-OK, Gwen. I did my rounds with no problems and checked to make sure all the campers are in their tents and accounted for.”

“Good to hear.”

David nodded proudly to himself then retreated to his room for only a moment, coming back into the room with his guitar. The water of the lake had stained the bottom of it, there was a long stretch of duct tape covering a large crack, and Nikki had left some impressive teeth marks in the wood of the neck, but it seemed relatively unharmed.

David plopped down in his seat, guitar lovingly propped up in his lap. “So what did Max want?” he asked idly, tuning the strings.

“Oh, you know,” Gwen shrugged, attention back on her magazine. She curled up her legs under her comfortably. “Just sticking his nose in other people’s businesses again.”

David smiled. “Well, he does like to be in the know.”

“Know what to use for blackmail,” Gwen muttered darkly to herself.

“What?”

“We had a decent conversation, actually,” she clarified.

The light from David’s smile seemed to make the room two times brighter and Gwen squinted at him.

“Oh, Gwen, that’s wonderful news!” David enthused, practically bouncing in his seat. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I know.”

With David still grinning, Gwen went back to sipping her tea. Her eyes slid closed blissfully when David strummed the first note on the guitar. It was high and sweet: a reflection of David’s mood. He plucked a few more notes, hit a chord, and a song emerged. It wasn’t any camp song (those had been strictly forbidden once Gwen has moved in as a summer counselor). It wasn’t any song Gwen had heard before either. It was something David was creating as he absently played, the notes melding perfectly together into something soothing and melodic.

Gwen read her magazine and sipped tea, Max made sure his bear was safety tucked away under his pillow, and David played his guitar.

The next day, if Gwen noticed that Max had enlisted Nikki and Neil’s help in spreading the word that no one was allowed to fuck with David’s guitar – not even Max – well then she certainly wasn’t going to say anything. And if she caught wind of the whispers that if any one of the campers did happen to get the idea to steal, break, or otherwise separate David from his guitar in any way, they’d have hell to pay and Max would be the one to personally make sure they cashed in. Well, she wasn’t going to let him catch her smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I should have mentioned earlier, but I've read fics and seen plenty of pics where Max's camp was believed to by Music Camp. Everyone seems to agree the kid plays something - the favorites being the violin and guitar/ukulele. Guess, I just wanted to make a backstory story where Max figures out he kinda likes the guitar and wants to learn more.
> 
> Thank you for reading and for your wonderful comments. Please feel free to offer any comments (constructive or otherwise) and PLEASE let me know if any typos slipped through. Thank you!


	3. The Nightingale's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a bought of insomnia, Max hears music beckoning him towards the lake.

Max glared up at the top of his tent.

He glared at the cloth as if it was the sole reason as to why he couldn’t get his eyes to close and his mind to slow and for sleep to come.

He turned onto his left side. Then tossed to his right. He kicked the blanket away. Then pulled it up over his head. He pushed his head into his pillow. Then dragged it to his chest. He considered bringing out Mr. Honey Nuts but he doubted the bear would be able to help him. Mr. Honey Nuts offered comfort. He wouldn’t be able to help Max stave off this current bought of insomnia. With a frustrated huff, Max flipped onto his back to renew his heated glare at the ceiling.

He could hear Neil’s nasally snoring from the other side of the tent and Nikki’s grunts as she kicked and pawed at the air in sleep. She rarely slept on her own cot, choosing instead to lie on the dirt ground with her blanket. She rolled around a lot. Judging by the trajectory of the sounds, Max guessed she had curled up under Neil’s cot, although there had been plenty of instances where Max had been jerked awake by a sharp jab from the bottom of his cot.

Max covered another exasperated groan by pushing his pillow against his face. Goddammit. He didn’t have time for this shit. He was tired. He wanted to go to sleep. He needed sleep.

Forfeiting the battle, Max threw the blanket aside and tugged his hoodie on over his head. Expertly navigating the dark, crowded interior of the tent and careful of his coffee maker, Max slipped outside.

The cool, fresh air of a forest’s summer night hit him full in the face and he inhaled it deeply, hands going to his pockets. The moon was only half-full but it and the glow of the stars was enough to effectively illuminate the camp; casting shadows under the tall pines. He took a moment to appreciate the quiet and the calming dark. The only sounds came from the nightlife of creatures rustling in the trees and the snores of Nurf, somewhat subdued by the thin cloth of his tent. He could vaguely make out the gentle lapping of Lake Lilac parallel to him, just on the other side of the thin line of trees that bordered the grouping of campers’ tents.

With little thought of where to go or what to do, Max started off on his usual rounds. Insomnia hit him quite a bit but he had set up a route to traverse in hopes of getting himself tired enough to finally go to sleep.

First he looped around the campers’ darkened tents, absently connecting the snores to the kids sleeping inside. Then he ambled to the Mess Hall, purposefully avoiding the Quartermaster’s store. Next he circled around the activities field. On nights like this when sleep was particularly evasive, he zigzagged through the individual camps, sometimes setting up a prank, usually just passing by. Last, he walked to the amphitheater, the trek alone typically helpful in exhausting him closer to sleep. He walked between the rows of wooden benches and climbed up on stage.

“Let’s hear it for Insomnia, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced scornfully, “it’s here all week.”

After a flourished bow that might have pleased even Preston, Max jumped down with a yawn. Whelp, looks like his plan was working. Already his feet were heavier and his eyes achy. With another yawn, Max started back toward his tent.

As he passed the Mess Hall for a second time, a breeze blew by, carrying with it a cold wave that made Max shiver. And the sound of music. Not just any music. A guitar.

Max perked up, tilting his head slightly to better catch the fluttering song. Suddenly awake, but too curious to really lament it, he padded towards the music.

Music Camp had been about a week ago and the impromptu musical performances David had claimed was mandatory was long since over. So it wasn’t like there was another camper out practicing for their big moment. That and Max didn’t think any of the other campers were all that interested in music anyway. Sure Ered had admitted her dad made her try the piano once (Once!), and Harrison dabbled with the flute (to charm snakes, he boasted, until Nikki retrieved one that nearly bit them all), and even Nerris was proud of her skills with the lyre (it increased her Elven magic apparently). But no one ever willingly pulled out an instrument and started playing. So either this camper was trying to keep their guitar-playing secret or…

Max entered the clearing that opened up onto the beach of the lake and the two long piers that reached over the water towards the mostly shrouded Spooky Island. He made a groan that sounded like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be one of disgust or annoyance.

Even in the pale light of the moon, that poof of red was undeniable.

David.

Max should go back. He didn’t want to get noticed, to have to deal with David. He had to deal with the repulsively enthusiastic counselor all day, every day for every month of summer. He did NOT want to have to deal with him at night too. Not when his walk had been going so peacefully. Seeing David, just the risk of having to talk to David, was enough to coerce Max right back to bed.

But then why were his feet propelling him forward?

Max crossed the beach. The music from the guitar strengthened as his proximity encouraged it to sing louder. The notes were soft and simple, no song he was familiar with but alluring all the same. Max stepped onto the pier. The music seemed to keep in time with the gentle movement of the waves; a beat created by each slap of water against the wooden beams supporting the pier. Max stopped an arm’s length away from David and just stared. Stared and listened.

David was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the pier, facing the blackened water, eyes half-closed as he smiled against the breeze ruffling his hair. He had on a thick flannel jacket and long, faded jeans. The stupid yellow bandana was still wound around his throat. The guitar sat in his lap, left hand supporting the long neck and deftly gliding along the strings; right hand slung comfortably around the guitar’s middle and flicking his fingers along the strings: sometimes a pluck, sometimes a strum. He hummed quietly to himself, no real routine, just matching his song with the music of the guitar and the sound of the lake.

It was beautiful.

Max wanted to see how David did it; how his fingers moved; how he was able to coax such a melody from the chunk of wood and metal without even trying. He took a reflexive step forward. The pier betrayed him. His position was given away when the wood let out a soft creak under his foot and David halted.

Max cursed the pier both for revealing him and for making David stop playing. He considered making a run for it and hope the night would continue to be his ally (unlike the stupid pier.)

But when David turned to face him, he paused in surprise. There was no fear of being caught in the older man’s face, or any anger at having caught Max out past curfew. There was surprise, sure, at seeing just how close Max had snuck towards him without him realizing, and some confusion as to why Max was out and about at this hour anyway. But upon regarding the boy’s face, green eyes searching teal, David smiled.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh, Max?”

Max blinked.

“What? No lecture? No interrogation?” he asked automatically. He bit down on his own lip to stop the questions. He really didn’t want to remind David how a proper adult should react towards a child clearly not following regulation.

David surprised him again, however, when the man only widened his smile and shook his head. He turned his body to fully face Max, guitar flat on his crossed legs. “You already know you’re not supposed to be out this late so my lecture wouldn’t mean or do anything. And my asking why you’re up isn’t going to do much either,” David explained, somehow not sounding condescending. “You’re up because you can’t sleep – same as me.”

Max didn’t quite know what to do. David wasn’t acting like a proper adult. Yelling and reprimands Max knew how to handle. Understanding and honesty were a novelty, especially since Max didn’t exactly uphold them either. Adults were supposed to punish bad behavior all the while declaring why it was bad with that smug attitude adults always had because they considered themselves older and wiser than kids. And thus have more authority. Why couldn’t David keep up with the fucking program?

David’s head tipped to the side, his smile wavering as confusion relighted in his eyes. “If it will help,” he offered hesitatingly, “do you want to talk, or maybe just hang out? If you want to.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “To be honest, I’d rather you stay close by instead of wandering off on your own in the dark. You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“This isn’t my first time,” Max deadpanned, relying on blunt cynicism to help him recover.

David frowned, worry making a little furrow form between his eyebrows. Ah, here’s where the lecture came in, where the scolding and accusing finger-waving would finally start. Max had been disobeying the rules for a while now and had admitted to it. David was one of the nicer, more forgiving, (and rather aloof) adults Max has met within his short lifetime but all adults were the same in the end when it came to their precious rules being broken.

“How often are you wandering around this late?” David asked seriously.

Max looked away, shoving his hands as deep as they would go into his pockets. He didn’t want to answer. Not that it would make much of a difference anyway. His silence and his honest answer would both be deemed displeasing.

“Max,” David said, voice still calm, kind even. He tried a different approached, “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Max snapped. “It’s called Insomnia. Heard of it? Or does it not exist in your carefree little world of rainbows and unicorns?”

David flinched back. He drummed his fingers distractedly against his guitar, unable to meet the fire simmering in Max’s glare. “I know what it is.”

“Then you’d know I have fuck little control on whether or not I actually get to sleep most nights.”

David rubbed his arm and then gripped it. “I know.”

The fact that David – David the fucking adult – was shying away from the irate Max – Max who was shooting off the lectures and insults – was enough to ignite the fire the exchange had been fanning the whole time.

“What is your fucking problem?!” Max shouted in rage. “What kind of adult are you? Why aren’t you getting angry? I got caught breaking your precious rules just so I could listen to you play, I’ve admitted to walking around camp _alone,_ _in the dark_ for a number of nights you don’t even know, and you just let me yell and curse you out because – what? – you’re a fucking coward? Or do you just not want to deal with it?

Chest heaving, fists clenched, Max glared at David, just daring him to make a scathing comeback, to send him away; to fucking lose it. Because that’s what adults did.

“You wanted to listen to me play?”

Max slapped a hand to his forehead. “That’s what you focus on? Jesus Christ, you can’t be real.”

“Do you like the guitar, Max?”

“No, I fucking hate it and I fucking hate you!”

“I can play some more, if you’d like.”

“What is fucking wrong with you? I said no!”

With that, Max spun around and stormed back towards the beach, each step making the wood groan in protest.

“I’ll come back here tomorrow night,” David called back to him and, by god, Max could hear that nauseating smile in the man’s voice. “I can play something for you then. In case you can’t sleep again.”

“Fuck off!” Max retorted, a sliver of pride at getting the last word in.

He stomped all the way back to his tent, lightening his footsteps only when passing through the tent flap. Just because he was frustrated didn’t mean he had to accidently wake his friends. He flung himself back onto his cot and grumpily wrapped his blanket around himself. Mr. Honey Nuts was waiting for him with open arms and Max pulled the bear into the blanket with him.

Stupid David and his stupid guitar and his stupid unwavering smile in the face of all of Max’s hatred. Just wait. Max wasn’t going to show up tomorrow night. He didn’t want to listen to that beautiful, sweet sound anyway. He didn’t want to listen to those rich, lulling notes again. He didn’t want to watch long slender fingers nimbly pluck at resonating strands of metal. He didn’t want to close his eyes and simply let the melody wash over him while the moon shone down, the stars twinkled, and the lake rippled. He was done thinking about this. He’d already made up his mind not to go.

Shit. He was going wasn’t he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done, three in as many days. And I'm already working on the sequel. I have some angstier stuff too but I wanted to post the fluff stuff first. 
> 
> Thank you for all your support! All you readers make me very happy and thank you too to my wonderful commenters (not a real word but in this context, it sure is). I'm glad to see you're enjoying the fic and more glad still to see some reoccurring names among the comments. Your kind words mean the world to me.
> 
> Thank you!


	4. The Aftermath of Your Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max doesn't quite know how to positively react towards something he likes. David doesn't know how to fix it. Gwen at least knows what she's doing.

The next night, Max begrudgingly found himself at the tree-line facing Lake Lilac, at the division between rocky grass and rocky sand.

He really hadn’t meant to come; really didn’t want to come; did everything in his power not to come, even retiring to his tent early in hopes that sleep would claim him and carry him through straight into morning. He had briefly considered waking Nikki to have her pin him down until the craving passed, but she often bit the hand shaking her awake and Max really didn’t want any bloodshed tonight.

So, alas, despite his best efforts, here he was.

Tucked back in the shadows of the tall trees, he glared out over the beach. As promised, David was there, having chosen to park himself in the dirt at the base of the pier rather than settle on the wood at the edge of it. Legs crossed and guitar perched on his knees in preparation for Max’s arrival, he sat and waited patiently with an excited grin plastered to his stupid face. He wore the same flannel shirt (it was almost the same shade of red as his hair), the collar pulled up to better protect his neck from the chilling breeze trailing over the water. A small solar lantern sat in front of him and created a warm glow of light that surrounded the man and fended off the encroaching dark.

Max huffed out an angry sigh. He could still turn around. He could still go back to his tent and stare up at nothing. He could leave David sitting out here in the increasingly darkening night by himself. Hell, he could just sit back and watch David as the night progressed. He could already see the lanky man curling in on himself with cold, the smile drooping and disappearing altogether at Max’s absence. That would teach him.

Max sighed again, this time with resignation. Sure he could do all that but he kinda, maybe did want to hear David play the guitar again. Maybe, not that anyone could prove it. And David kinda, sorta was going out of his way here for Max.

Fine, let’s just get this over with.

Max trudged out of the shadows and stepped into David’s circle of light, head down, hands firmly in pockets. David beamed all the same.

“Hey, Max! I’m really glad you came!” Just as quickly as the elation came, it went. David ducked his head, shoulders hitching up to his ears in shame. “Just don’t tell Gwen I’m encouraging you to leave your tent after hours. I don’t think she’d like it, but I think this time spent with you might be really worthwhile, especially if I finally found something that interests you, so I-”

“David,” Max interrupted with a leveled frown, “I didn’t come here to hear you talk.”

“Oh, right!” David recovered, the enthusiasm returned. He hastily picked up his guitar and gave the strings a commencing strum. That single harmonious note resonated delightfully in Max’s head and he tampered down a smile. He did allow himself to sit down across from David and silently wait for more. David’s smile was practically blinding so Max focused on the guitar instead.

“So, what would you like me to play?” David asked politely.

“I don’t know. Whatever I guess.”

“Oooohh~ _There’s a place I know_ -” David started.

Max snapped a glare at him and, dear god, was there a mischievous glint in the man’s eyes?

“Don’t you dare or I swear to whatever god you believe in, I will break that guitar over your fucking head.”

Max’s anger was not appeased in the slightest when David merely chuckled at the totally legitimate threat. He did stop playing though so Max considered that a miracle in itself.

“Don’t you know any other songs?” Max snapped.

“I do. Though I thought you might prefer if you got to choose.”

“Jesus, didn’t think I’d have to provide the fucking playlist.”

“All right, all right. Next time.” With his damn smile still on his damn face, David shifted the guitar more comfortably in his grip.

“Here.” He started to play.

The melody started slow and deep. After the initial shock from the music, Max quickly turned his attention to David’s hands: how his left fingers both supported the neck and pushed down on the strings; each movement of his fingers; each combination of strings producing a different sound. He moved this hand up and down slowly along the neck, the pitch of the song changing with the movement, sometimes deep and somber, sometimes light and whimsical. His right hand plucked at the strings more than strummed across all of them. It made the song focus on each definite sound rather than blend them together.

Max watched in mute fascination as the song washed over him and carried up into the night air. It was slow and sweet and seemed to come with the promise of correlating lyrics, but David wasn’t singing. He hummed a verse sometimes but never made an actual word.

It sounded like a lullaby.

Max suddenly wanted to hear the words that came with the music. Ironically, he had been the one who blurted that he didn’t want to hear David’s voice. Damn you, karma. You win this time.

The song slowed and with a last uplifting sweep, it ended. David’s fingers stilled as he allowed the last vibration of the strings to fade by itself. He smiled fondly down at the guitar until the note stopped, silence yawned, and the crickets (who had paused in their chirping to listen as well) started up again. It could have been mistaken for applause.

“How was that?” David asked expectantly. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Max was frozen where he sat, eyes still glued to the guitar.

“Max?” David said, concern in his voice now. He reached out for the boy and took his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Max sniffled. What the hell?

He looked down at his hands and found that his vision had blurred. What the actual fuck.

“Max?” David repeated, grabbing the guitar out of his lap to put both hands on Max’s shoulders. “Oh gosh, what is it? What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Max pushed the hands away and staggered back out of the circle of light. He scrubbed his sleeves across his eyes because he was definitely not crying. He just had a mosquito or some shit bug fly into his eye. Maybe sand.

David stayed kneeling in the dirt, hands up, not wanting to agitate Max.

“You tell anyone about this and I’ll make good on my threat to snap that guitar on your face,” Max said hoarsely. With that, Max spun around and hurried off into the dark.

David sank down onto his heels. He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked to his guitar. Did he and the boy have a bonding moment or did he just mess up big time?

The next few days didn’t improve much for Max. It was mostly David’s fault (okay, maybe not completely David’s fault but Max felt better blaming him). Even his insomnia seemed to be acting up and being worse than usual. But hey, what else was new.

The counselor couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to hover over Max to make sure the boy was okay (or at least until they could talk about what happened at the lake), or give Max his space in hopes that the boy would recover or come to David when he was ready to talk. Either way, it was annoying and seriously dampening the overall mood at camp.

“Hey, Max, why does David keep looking at you?” Nikki asked frankly, staring back at David quizzically until the older man ducked away.

“Yeah, he has been awfully stalker-like lately,” Neil mused, rubbing at his chin as he squinted at David’s back.

“And quiet,” Space Kid added, leaning towards the three with an equally pensive expression. Neil glanced at the boy before promptly swatting him away.

“Fuck if I care,” Max replied, stabbing a fork into the leg of meat the Quartermaster claimed was chicken. He didn’t think chicken usually had scales flaking off the skin but who was he to judge. He wasn’t going to eat it anyway. No appetite tonight.

“I don’t know, Max,” Nikki continued suspiciously, “Maybe you should be a little more worried about this. I mean, the guy’s been following you around for most of the week but hasn’t said a word to any one of us.”

“What’d you do this time?” Neil asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Nothing!”

“You sure, Max? Last time David got all quiet and secretive like this, you were sure he was going to kill you. Maybe he has an actually plan this time.”

“Nikki might be right about this, Max. David’s been acting pretty weird. And I mean weird for him. Guy’s been unusually quiet and hasn’t once brought out that stupid guitar.”

“It’s not stupid,” Max grumbled, resting his chin on his open palm as he pushed the “chicken” scales around his plate.

“Huh?” Nikki asked incredulously.

“What are you talking about?” Neil elaborated. “All you ever do is complain about David playing that useless hunk of wood whenever he brings it out.”

“Just, shut the fuck up about it already, it’s not that bad.  I only complained when it was that shitty camp song.”

“Does he even know anything else?” Neil asked skeptically, folding his arms across his chest in disbelief.

“Of course he does, Neil. I’m sure he didn’t learn to play by doing the same song over and over.”

“Hey, David!” Nikki shouted from across the room.

The counselor flinched and turned to face the young girl. She waved him over and he hesitatingly stood and walked over to their table. “Yes, Nikki?” he asked. His eyes flickered to Max and his smile wavered for a brief moment before he looked back to the girl.

“How many songs do you know for that guitar?”

David seemed surprised by the question and again he glanced furtively at Max. “A lot. I started playing when I was young so I’ve learned quite a few songs over the years.”

“Really?” Nikki eyes shone. “Can you play us something now?”

Max glared at her. David noticed.

“Not right now, Nikki,” David replied apologetically. An emotion Max wasn’t used to seeing on that perpetually happy face darkened David’s expression for a blink of an eye and then the smile was back. Max wondered if he had even seen the shift at all. “I don’t want to play in the middle of dinner. You kids need to focus on eating so you don’t get hungry in the middle of the night.”

“Good point,” Nikki gasped and returned to gnawing at the mystery meat.

David smiled at her enthusiasm, shot a glance at Max, and walked back to his table where his equally untouched food waited.

“Curious,” Neil muttered. “David never denies the chance to bring out his guitar. Wonder what’s up with him.”

“Maybe he’s dying,” Nikki offered unhelpfully, mouth stuffed with food, scales fluttering off her cheeks.

Max groaned and rolled his eyes. He dropped his fork down on his plate and left the table without cleaning up.

“Where ya going, Max?” Neil asked.

“Can I eat you’re chicken?” Nikki asked.

“I’m done,” Max said in answer to both of them. He shoved his hands in his pockets and exited the Mess Hall, fully aware of David’s gaze on him.

“I think I messed up, Gwen,” David whined as he dropped his head into his hands.

Gwen was leaning back in her chair, feet up on the table, and reading her magazine. Her uneaten chicken and the Quartermaster’s signature mashed potatoes had been pushed away.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” she acknowledged idly.

David peeked up between his fingers at the door where Max had just left. For the majority of the week, he had been trying to get Max to open up to him about what had happened at Lake Lilac. David wanted to apologize for producing such a reaction from Max, though he’d be lying if he wasn’t curious as to why Max had reacted so after listening to him play. The boy had left in such a hurry and had seemed pretty angry that David wasn’t sure if he had hated the song (like he seemed to dislike most things) or if it was something else. David wanted to know but he knew he couldn’t push the boy. That would get him nowhere and only forced Max to retreat further into his shell. But David did want to talk. He desperately wanted to explain that he meant no harm and he desperately wanted to know that Max was okay.

At the current juncture of his insecurities, Gwen was the only one he could turn to, no matter how much it seemed to pain her.

“I think I upset Max.”

“What else is new?”

“And I don’t know how to make it better.”

“What’d you do this time?” Gwen sighed, flipping a page.

David fretted on his bottom lip. “Okay, don’t be mad, but I invited Max out to the lake a few nights ago.”

“Not mad. Concerned maybe. Do I need to inform the police?”

“What? No! No, he just asked if I could play the guitar for him and he was awake anyway because he has insomnia, so I figured it would be okay to play a song or two and help him get back to sleep.”

Gwen held up a hand to stop the rambling and David obediently quieted, biting at his tongue. She sighed again and closed her magazine. She put her feet back on the ground and turned in her seat to fully face David.

Voice low so as to not attract the attention of the dining campers she asked, “So what happened?”

“I played him this old song I personally like,” David answered, ducking his head again as if to avoid detection while sharing this grand secret, “and, I don’t know, Gwen, Max went quiet and then I noticed he was starting to cry.”

Gwen lifted her brows in surprised disbelief.

“He stopped himself before there were any actual tears, but I still saw.”

“Maybe you’re a shitty guitarist,” Gwen shrugged.

David snapped an offended look of appall and Gwen waved him down with a pacifying gesture.

“Maybe he didn’t like it?” she offered instead.

“Maybe?” David mused aloud, “But he didn’t look angry. He only got angry when I tried to ask what was wrong.”

Gwen took a moment to think quietly to herself, chin cupped in her hand. David waited, hands going to grip each other nervously.

“Maybe,” she started, as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say, “maybe he liked it.”

“What? But he was about to cry, and he left before I could find out why, and now he won’t even talk to me.”

“Look, I listen to you play almost every night. I know you’re good.”

“Aww, Gwen!”

“Therefore,” Gwen continued, fending off one of David’s hugs with a hand pushing against his face, “I can assure you he didn’t hate it. You said yourself, he didn’t seem angry when you were playing, only when you started asking questions.”

David nodded.

“So, he must have liked it.”

“But the crying…” David persisted, still stymied by the reaction.

Gwen shrugged again. “Hey, I cried when I first heard _River Flows in You_. Maybe he just didn’t know how to process the music. Maybe he was just overwhelmed by it.”

“So… you think he liked it that much?”

Gwen smiled, one of those rare smiles she saved for genuine moments of joy and affection. She touched David’s shoulder. “Knowing how beautifully you play, yes I do.”

“Oh, Gwen, thank you!”

She didn’t bother trying to resist the arms that were flung around her shoulders and pulled her close into a hug. “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” she smiled and patted his back.

David pulled away, his signature smile (that had been worryingly absent the past few days) was back in full force.

“I gotta find Max,” He stated.

“What’re going to do?”

David stood and flashed that brilliant smile. Before he could answer, however, Space Kid suddenly landed heavily on the table and skidded right through their dinners: two plates of food and one small child clattering noisily to the floor.

“My levitation trick worked!” Harrison cheered from the middle of the room.

“No! It was my levitation _spell_!” Nerris protested.

Space Kid groaned from his position on the floor as Nurf’s booming laughter filled the Mess Hall.

David stared down at Space Kid with wide eyes, then at Nerris and Harrison who were waving their hands at each other, trying to get the other to fly up to collide with the ceiling.

“Go,” Gwen sighed, rubbing her hands down her face. “You find Max. I’ll deal with this.”

David flashed one last smile in gratitude before tiptoeing away. Gwen’s shouts of, “What the hell if wrong with you little shits!” followed him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know how to play the guitar. But I like how it sounds.
> 
> This was originally two separate chapters but I decided to combine them. I thought they might satisfy you more together than apart. That and I really wanted to post some more Gwen.  
> The lullaby does have lyrics but they won't show up in this story.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for the lovely comments and for reading! Please, please let me know if you see I typo so that I might spare you from it.


	5. Children Waiting for the Day they Feel Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David tries again.

“Max!”

Max groaned, turning his face first to the sky is if to question why the gods wanted to punish him today more than they already had. He turned next to the breathless David trotting up to him.

“What the fuck do you want?” Max grumbled.

In one fluid motion, David stopped in front of the boy and dropped onto one knee to make them eye level. His hand reached out to take Max’s shoulder, closing the distance between them that had been present ever since the lake.

“I want to try again,” David enthused, eyes bright and hopeful.

“What?” Max jerked a step back. David’s hand stayed on his shoulder.

“The guitar. I want to play it for you again. I know you like it and I don’t want my last performance to keep you from enjoying it. I don’t want you to feel scared or ashamed.”

“I am NOT _scared_ of a guitar, you asshole.”

Before Max could argue further, David plucked him up off the ground and carried him towards the counselor cabin.

“Put me the fuck down!” Max roared, kicking and punching at David. “You can’t just force me to go with you! I know my fucking rights! I swear I’ll call the police! HELP! Child endangerment! Stranger-danger! Let go of me, mother-”

“Language,” David advised, completely unfazed.

Max flailed in the man’s grip, eyes searching for Neil, Nikki, anyone to come rescue him form whatever heart-to-heart bullshit David had planned. He did NOT want to talk about fucking feelings with the over-emotional bastard.

“Let me go!” Max hollered.

“Not yet.”

Max was about to resort to biting when David entered the cabin and closed the door behind him. He didn’t lock it, Max noted, and he realized there was a certain amount of trust David was putting in him not to run away. David was willing to try again but wasn’t going to outright force Max to do the same. The knowledge was sobering and Max chose not to bite David’s hand when the man finally put him down.

“One sec,” David said cheerfully and retreated to his room to retrieve his guitar. “Make yourself at home.”

Max stood where he was. This wasn’t a home. This was a shit pile of logs that was used during the summer to house two shit counselors during shit camp. Sure Gwen and David had decorated the communal room with what little they had: Gwen with her werewolf calendar and David with his half of the Staff of the Sparrow (and a framed picture of David’s stupid equation for Max’s happiness). There were the two chairs, a desk, and a tv but it all looked old and worn. Cameron Campbell didn’t put much in the way of funds for comfortable living. Not that David ever complained. Gwen did. Gwen complained a lot.

David was quick to return, the guitar in his hands. “Well, come in, Max,” he encouraged. “You can relax here. Gwen is keeping the other campers occupied so they won’t know you’re here. Though I’m still not sure why you want to keep your love for the guitar a secret.”

“I don’t love it. I told you, I hate it and I hate you.”

Undeterred, David sat down in his chair and started adjusting the guitar, giving it an experimental strum every now and then to test it.

“Max,” David started gently, eyes on the instrument. “I know full well I can’t force you to stay. So, you can leave if you want.” He paused, looking for the right words. When he did lift his gaze to Max, the look of absolute sincerity was piercing. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to run away from the things you enjoy. Whether you feel like it’s not worth the time or if you feel like you don’t deserve it, I don’t want you to restrict your own happiness or deny yourself what you want.

“So, if you’ll let me, if this is what you want, I’d like to sit here and play something for you. We don’t have to talk, we don’t have to do anything else. Whatever you want.”

Done, David sat still and waited for Max’s response, guitar at the ready.

Max… wasn’t sure how to respond. David had unloaded a lot on him and yet he didn’t feel any of the weight of requirement that usually came with being given a choice. There was always some expectation that came with being given the power to choose. Sure, you had a choice, but the other party always had some alternative motive and typically became disappoint if you chose what you wanted rather than what they wanted; what they wanted for you. Free choice was a lie.

And here David sat, giving him a choice – a free choice with no consequences. He’d given the promise to proceed only with Max’s consent and only within the boundaries of Max’s comfort level. Max felt like he could truly choose to leave and David would respect that and carry no ill will against him for it. But was leaving what he really wanted?

Max mulled over his options a moment more, before trudging forward. Deliberately avoiding David’s gaze, he hopped up onto Gwen’s chair and awkwardly crossed his legs in front of him.

“What song would you like?” David asked with a fond smile.

Max thought about requesting the lullaby from the other night but that might inflate David’s pride further and Max didn’t want to have to deal with that right now.

Something else then. Something simple. Not one of those hip new songs that were always playing on the radio with the fast tempos and faster words (and gratuitous mentions of sex and drugs). David probably didn’t know any of those songs. People who played guitar liked country music right? Slow and steady songs about men losing their girl but still had their truck. Ugh, nevermind, Max didn’t want to listen to country. What was something David might know? He was old (a whole decade older, jesus the man was ancient) so maybe a classic? Max had a teacher who played classic rock a lot (until Max changed the station to something a little more profane just as the principal walked in, then no more radios allowed in classrooms).

When the idea hit, Max shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “How about _Mad World_?”

“Hmm, I’m not familiar with that song,” David mused.

“What? Have you been living under a rock your whole life? Everyone knows that song. Hell, Vine has practically married it.”

“What’s a Vine?”

“Oh god, I am not having this conversation with you right now.”

“How about this?” David offered. “You sing it for me so I can get an idea what it sounds like. I might be able to copy it.”

“You can do that?”

“Yeah. I can match the sounds easily enough.”

“That’s… actually kind of impressive.”

David’s smile could have rivaled the sun in brightness. Max had to actually put up a hand to shield his eyes.

“God damn, quit with that smiling bullshit.”

David adjusted his smile and steadied his guitar. “Ready when you are.”

Max huffed out an irritated sigh. He would never have agreed to this if anyone else was around. But the cabin’s wooden walls were reassuringly solid and he knew he could trust David with a secret so he inhaled a deep breath and started to sing.

“ _All around me are familiar faces_  
_Worn out places, worn out faces_  
 _Bright and early for the daily races_  
 _Going nowhere, going nowhere.”_

Max considered himself a fairly decent singer, nothing worth flaunting on American Idol, but leagues above Preston at the least. He half expected David to interrupt with some glowing review but when he paused to glance at the man, David had his eyes half-closed, listening intently to Max as he fingers ghosted over the strings, adjusting their position to match up with the changes of pitch in Max’s voice.

Confidently, Max continued on to the second verse. David added his music, synching the slow, melancholic sound with Max’s voice.

“ _Their tears are filling up their glasses_  
_No expression, no expression_  
 _Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow_  
 _No tomorrow, no tomorrow.”_

Max was openly watching David play and the man lifted his head briefly to meet Max’s gaze. He grinned and Max, too caught up in the moment to stop himself, smiled back.

“ _I find it kind of funny  
I find it kind of sad_ ”  
_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_ \- wait.”

David stopped, looking up with surprise, an apology already on the tip of his tongue.

“That part should be higher,” Max interjected.

“Which part?” David asked, shaking himself out of his default apology mode.

“I find IT kind of _funny_ , I find IT kind of _sad_ , the dreams in which I’m dying are the BEST I’ve ever _had_ ,” Max repeated, putting emphasis on the words that needed to be made higher and the ones that were lower.

“Like this?” David replayed the portion, changing the pitch of the part that correlated with the words. The notes were the same but he successfully made the music higher where Max wanted.

“Yeah.”

David started again, pride in his chest, and Max picked up the song as they continued through the chorus and then the following two versus. They ended together, Max’s voice fading with the music harmoniously.

“Bastard, you knew that song already.”

David floundered. “I mean, I practiced it a long time ago. Everyone with a guitar did. Kind of an iconic song.”

Max leveled a glare at him and David flinched back, waving his hands submissively. “But I haven’t played it in a few years and I was a little rusty, but listening to you sing really helped me remember what I had forgotten.”

Max sneered. “You’re terrible. Lying to a child.”

David jumped up to his feet. “Max, I didn’t- I would never- I mean, I did but that doesn’t mean I-”

He paused when Max started to laugh.

“God, you’re so easy to mess with.”

Still unsure, but smiling at Max, David eased back down into his chair.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Guess it wasn’t that bad. You should play for the camp more often.”

David gripped the guitar close. “But last time, you took the guitar from me. And you said-”

Max held up a finger. “Only when you start to play that stupid theme song you made up,” he amended. “Anything else should be fine.”

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, thank you, Max!” David lunged at Max for a hug but the boy clearly predicted it and jumped neatly out of the way.

“On one condition,” Max said seriously.

“Anything.” David regretted the choice of word immediately. “Within reason.”

“You teach me how to play.”

“You want _me_ to teach _you_?”

“Well, if I could, I would prefer literally anyone else teach me, but since you’re the only one who knows how to play the guitar in a twenty mile radius, yeah, you’ll have to do. Plus,” Max said with a careless shrug, “I want to learn so I can stop having to go to you to listen to it.”

“Oh, Max, I would love to teach you.” David sniffed, waving at the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. All this friendship was making him cry.

“Please don’t make me regret this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t regret a thing. I’ll do my best! Oh my gosh, I am just so excited. Let’s start right now!”

As if on cue, the cabin door slammed open. David let out his signature scream and Max turned to face the interruption with wide eyes.

Gwen stood in the doorway, the last tendrils of light from the setting sun casting her silhouette in darkness and making her shadow extended into the room ominously. Her hair was badly tangled in disarray and there were dark stains of… something on her shirt and coating her arms.

“Good evening, Gwen,” David gulped. Max made a move to step behind the taller man. “Are you okay?”

“YOU!” Gwen stormed inside, pointing an accusing finger at David. He flinched back with a squeak as she grabbed the front of his shirt. “Break time’s over.” She bodily tossed him outside in a tangle of flailing limbs.

“AND YOU!” Gwen said with a quiet force, voice containing all the power of a barely contained storm. Max made to dart around her but her hand was a blur as she reached down to grab his hoodie. “Get out.”

Max was just as effortlessly tossed out after David. The boy landed on David just as the man was starting to pick himself up and both tumbled to the ground. The sight that met them made Gwen’s actions completely understandable.

The campers had taken their undisclosed meat dinners and, using the mashed potatoes as an adhesive, had constructed a gruesome, possibly six foot tall, chicken sculpture. The abomination was currently in the center of a large campfire that Nurf was feeding. Laughing maniacally, Nikki sat at the top of the chicken construction and was throwing down handfuls of scales to make the fire sizzle and pop as it licked at the meat. Nerris was inciting some incantation that was likely to summon the creature to life. Harrison had procured a flock of doves to circle the creation as if performing his own magic ritual to rival Nerris’. Ered had settled back to watch, sunglasses on and Dolph handing her a soda can with a straw. Preston was reciting some Shakespeare bullshit, hand at his head as if the spectacle had moved him to some great epiphany. Space Kid was watching it all with awe, eyes sparkling (whole helmet sparkling, really, with the reflection of the fire).

“Oh, there you are,” Neil noted indifferently as he looked to David and Max. “About time.”

“The chicken shall be reborn and rule over all!” Nikki cheered from her perch atop the chicken. “Know his wrath!”

“Oh dear,” David whimpered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your listening pleasure: a cover of Tears for Fears/Gary Jules' "Mad World". https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIQIGBRKdLo. This is how I imagine David would play. That and I'm partial to fingerstyle. 
> 
> I apologize for the lateness of this latest update. I'm back at work so my available hours have changed. Luckily, the whole story is written, just need the time to post. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. As always, please let me know if you snagged on any typos or feel free just to add a critique or a thought. All are incredibly appreciated.


	6. The First Step is Always the Hardest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So maybe the first lesson doesn't go as smoothly as it could have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to reiterate before you start reading that I am using the dimensions given to me by RoosterTeeth for Max's height. The picture in chapter one adequately depicts the size differences between boy and instrument.

On account of having to clean up the massive sculpture of decomposing meat and potatoes (that had gone stale to the consistency of cement), Max’s guitar lessons had to be inadvertently postponed until the camp could be cleaned, sanitized, and rid of the predators that had been attracted by the smell of meat. David had given the campers a very long and involved lecture about why it was not a good idea to play with your food. Gwen had contributed by declaring she would not pursue and rescue a camper should a hungry wolf take off with one, AGAIN.

After that, it was business as usual and Max finally found a free evening where he could sneak away from Neil and Nikki. He let himself into the counselor’s cabin and made himself comfortable while he waited. This included grabbing a cup of the good coffee David insisted only grown-ups should drink. He idly grabbed one of Gwen’s magazines to flip through, his disgust growing with every page. 

“What are you doing here?” Gwen spat upon opening the door. She marched forward and swiped the magazine out of Max’s hands.

“Hello to you, too,” Max scoffed, voice dripping with dislike.

“You have three seconds, Max, before I literally kick you out.”

“I’m waiting for David.”

“Then you can wait outside.”

Without warning, Gwen picked up Max by his hood and started for the door.

“Will you stop doing that?!” Max hissed trying with no avail to swipe at Gwen’s hand.

Just as Gwen was about to throw Max out, David popped into view, clicking his flashlight off.

“There you are, Max!”

He easily plucked the boy out of Gwen’s grip and carried him back inside. Max turned to flip Gwen off behind David’s back.

“Why is he here?” Gwen groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off the growing headache that never seemed to completely dissipate.

“I’m glad you asked,” David grinned, dropping Max back onto his chair. “You see, from today on, I’m going to be Max’s teacher for guitar lessons.”

“Why are you like this?” Gwen moaned, falling into her chair. “You know this will only end in disaster and you always make me suffer through it anyway.”

“Geez, Gwen, have some care for my child development,” Max chided sarcastically.

“I’ll show you what you can do with that guitar,” Gwen growled, rising from her chair and looking, for all intents and purposes, like someone with murder on their agenda.

“Now, Gwen, Max is right,” David tried, stepping in front of Gwen and easing her back down. “Learning to play an instrument is a great way to nurture proper growth and development in a child. Just look at how great I turned out!”

Gwen looked at him. He tried not to withdraw against the judgment and disbelief in her expression.

“I’m telling you, this will be a great experience for Max,” David continued hopefully. “And I finally found something he likes.”

“’Like’ is a bit of a strong word,” Max supplied unhelpfully from where he was refilling his coffee.

“Something he doesn’t hate.”

“Better.”

“Fine, whatever. Go be band nerds,” Gwen sighed, sinking into her chair in defeat. “Just do it outside so I can’t hear you.”

“But you love listening to me play,” David pouted.

“’Love’ is a bit of a strong word,” Gwen griped, but she did it with a slight lift of her lips. “Besides, I like listening to _you_ play,” she said pointing at David. “Not him.” She jabbed a finger at Max. “I will not sit here during my down-time and listen to some noob slap a guitar and call it music.”

“What’d you call me?”

“What? Can’t hear? Next you’re going to say you’re tone-deaf too.”

“I will fight you!”

“Please, I can wipe the floor with you with one hand behind my back.”

“Prove it! Wanna go?”

“Bring it, little man.”

“Guys, guys!,” David squeaked, physically placing himself between Gwen and Max and fending them off with a hand on Gwen’s shoulder and one on Max’s head. “This is not proper Camp Campbell behavior!”

“Shut up, David!” both Max and Gwen yelled.

David whimpered but held his ground. “Okay, Gwen, we’ll leave, okay? We’re going.” David picked up his guitar and a protesting Max and hastily left the room. Gwen slammed the door shut behind them.

“Do you have to get her so riled up?” David asked indignantly once they were a safe distance away. He put Max down and slipped his guitar behind him.

“Does she have to be such a bitch?” Max retorted.

“Language, Max. That is no way to talk about your counselor and you know it.”

“Whatever.”

David sighed and shook his head but didn’t push. Together the two walked past the campers settling in for bed (with Max sticking to the shadows) and made their way to Lake Lilac. It was a good a place as any and no one would be able to hear them practice unless someone had followed them. Max glanced back and checked the shadows of the trees just in case. The last thing he wanted was for someone to see him with David, of all people, playing a guitar. After the Mr. Honey Nuts reveal, his reputation was already at stake.

David found a nice spot and sat down in the sand, Max following suit and taking his place in front of David. Wordlessly, David pulled the guitar out and held it away from him towards Max, the strings facing the boy.

“So, first, I guess, I’ll just go over what everything’s called,” David started with his usual cheeriness.

Despite his excitement, he had an under-laying uneasiness. He’d never taught someone how to play the guitar before. He was never officially trained himself, learning on his own and watching Youtube tutorials when he really wanted to learn a song correctly. He wasn’t sure how to properly teach Max in a way that would interest the boy and still get the lesson across. He’d just have to learn as he went.

“This is the neck,” David said, tapping his fingers against it. “And the head has the tuning pegs where you can change how tight the strings are. You can change the sounds by turning the peg.”

To model, David strummed once, adjusted the tuning, then strummed again to show the difference. He glanced at Max. The boy didn’t look bored yet. He was watching David’s fingers intently. David continued, renewed delight blooming in his chest.

“This is the body. The sound hole is where you get the deep sound of the guitar.”

“Sound hole?” Max questioned with a raised brow. “That can’t be the real name.”

David chuckled. “‘Fraid so. Maybe not the most ingenious name but it gets the point across.”

Max smirked. “Head, neck, body, _sound hole_. Pretty self-explanatory so far.”

David grinned. Maybe he was doing better than he thought. Not only was Max retaining the information but he seemed willing for more.

“Now for the strings. Music is kind of its own language so each string is a letter. Putting the letters together makes a note and a set of notes makes a chord. This all comes together to make music.”

Max’s brow furrowed at the lingo he was unfamiliar with.

“Let me show you,” David said hurriedly. He pointed at the top, thickest string. “This is String E.” Moving down the strings from top to bottom, thickest to thinnest, David listed off the names. “And this is String A, String D, G, B, and E.

“Now here’s three notes separately.” David individually plucked at the strings, his left hand pressing down on the neck to distinguish each note. “And here’s a chord.” Fingers on the three strings, David strummed once to join the individual notes together in one melodic chord.

Max’s eyes widened at the sound.

“It’s a little complex and confusing when you first start,” David admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But it gets easier with practice, I promise. Here, you try.”

“What?”

“You just keep strumming, top to bottom, E to E, and I’ll make the chords up here.”

Max hesitated but scooted closer to the guitar. He reached his hand out and swiped down on the strings. A resonating thrum answered him and he smiled.

“Keep going,” David said, voice full of pride.

Max swiped down again and continued to strum at an easy pace. David moved his fingers along the neck with each strum and slowly a familiar song arose.

Once Max realized what it was, he snapped his hand back and glared at David. “You bastard,” he cursed. “I can’t believe you made me do that!”

“It’s a great song,” David argued, aiming for a hurt tone but failing against his smile.

“What did I tell you about playing that fucking theme song again?”

“But I didn’t play it. You did.”

Max tugged at his hair in frustration at having lost the fight. “Asshole! I’ll kill you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” David did his best not to laugh as tiny fists tried to beat past his guitar to strike at exposed flesh. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“I’m done with this,” Max grumbled. David faltered, smile fading.

But the boy didn’t get up and walk away. Instead, he said, “I want to do that part.”

David followed Max’s pointing figure to his left hand. “You want to make the chords?”

Max nodded haughtily. David willingly surrendered the guitar to the boy’s eager hands. Max had to stand up to handle the large instrument, the guitar’s body resting on the ground. His small left hand struggled to wrap around the neck as easily as David's had. His right hand strained for the strings that reached across the guitar’s body.

It was almost comical. The guitar was nearly the same size as Max, his short arms stretching to reach both the neck and the body. Max gave a small grunt in frustration as he tried to imitate David’s positioning of fingers.

“Now what?”

David shifted to sit beside Max, marveling briefly at how the boy didn’t skirt away but looked up at him for guidance. If only he had a camera.

David cupped his hand around Max’s, long fingers dwarfing small ones. David guided Max’s fingers to the frets and pressed them down gently against the strings.

“Strum,” he instructed, keeping his fingers on the strings even when Max’s slipped slightly as he reached to strum the guitar. A struggling sound resounded from the guitar and Max’s excitement at having played it was dampened by the fact that it didn’t sound nearly as nice as David’s.

“That’s called a C Major,” David explained. He removed his hand, wanting Max to do it on his own. “Do it again.”

Max frowned and tried again, the sound stronger but cut short when Max’s hand bumped against the strings when he pulled it back. He cursed.

“Why isn’t it working?” he snarled.

“You can’t expect to be perfect after playing only one chord,” David offered gently.

“The hell I can’t. It’s one chord. It shouldn’t be this hard.”

When his third, then fourth try wasn’t much better, Max pushed the guitar away. It all seemed rather daunting and futile now. Why had he even bothered in the first place. Gwen was right…it was a disaster. This was stupid. Max suddenly felt very young (he felt his age) and he couldn’t tamper down the growing frustration at being unable to properly do what he wanted to do.

“Don’t give up, Max,” David said, as if sensing Max’s inner turmoil. His hand rose to rest on the boy’s back. “It was hard for me too when I first started learning. These things take time, patience, and practice. Let’s try again.” David picked up the guitar and held it out for the boy to take.

Max glared at the offending wood and turned away, ducking his head down and hiding his eyes. Hands back in his pockets, he made no move to accept the guitar. David recognized the stance immediately. Max was withdrawing back into his shell. He was shutting down, shutting David out.

“Max, wait, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m not doing this right. It’s my fault. Please let me try again.”

“It’s not your fault.”

David swallowed his next apology. Max shrugged the reassuring hand off his back. “This was a stupid idea. …Sorry, for wasting your time. And… thanks… for trying, I guess.”

David was speechless. Max never apologized, and to do so with a ‘thank you.’ This was worse than he thought. Max was disappointed in himself. That hurt David more than the boy’s disappointment in the counselor ever could.

“Max-”

“I’m going to bed. Good night.”

Not knowing what else to say that could cheer up the boy, David watched the tiny blue-clad figure disappear into the shadows of the night.

The problem wasn’t David or his impromptu teaching skills. The problem wasn’t Max, though they would have to work on his coping skills on getting through frustration. The problem was the guitar. It was too big and unyielding for the small boy to play comfortably, confidently.

A sudden thought flashed to David’s mind and he smiled. He knew what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Research included with the making of this chapter: re-watching specific episodes to determine if David and Max are left-handed or right-handed. Turns out, David and Max are both right-handed (holding the neck with his left and strumming with his right.)  
> Other research included looking up the anatomy of a guitar. Although, if I portrayed anything incorrectly, please let me know so I can fix my mistake. Again, I have no experience with the guitar so all my intel is coming to me as a second source.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely commenters! I'm pleased to hear you enjoyed the shared moment of David playing and Max singing. It's an aesthetic I adore very much so you can look forward to it reoccurring in my other fic(s).


	7. You and Me and This Ukulele

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What I've been promising since the beginning, and what you've been waiting for: the ukulele.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you for your comments, your kudos, your help, your support, and your generosity. I am forever grateful my first Camp Camp fic was so eagerly accepted. It was a fun journey to have traveled with you and I look forward to the next one.

“Psst, Max,” a whisper called out from behind the tattered curtain of Drama Camp’s theatre.

Max looked away from Preston who, as usual, was dictating the campers' roles for tonight’s performance in his typical dramatic flair. The theatrical boy was constantly waving his hands about in grand flourishes to emphasize his demands. His voice spiked from passionate whisper to crazed shout as he described the scene: another Shakespearean rip-off where Ophelia’s ghost returned to haunt Hamlet. Shit, the poor guy already had his dad hounding on him to kill his uncle. Did he really need his girlfriend ragging on him too?

“Over here,” the whisper insisted.

Suspicion was cast away in favor of not having to listen to Preston’s continuing monologue about how Ered needed to act a little less cool and a little more doe-eyed. This was met with bitter disagreement and Ered’s insistence that since Ophelia had taken the time to haunt the prick that influenced her death, she was not going to waste her time being “doe-eyed.”

Already bored of the argument, Max walked up to the curtain. He didn’t need to pay attention anyway. Preston had placed him on back-stage duty after his less-than stellar performance as the wizard in Preston’s last “Romeo and Juliet” play. The boy drew the curtain back to see David crouching next to the props. The counselor grinned at Max.

“What’s up, camp man?” Max asked curtly.

David looked positively giddy, barely able to stay still as he glanced over Max’s shoulder to make sure the other campers hadn’t noticed him. Max grimaced against the bubbling positivity.

“After the performance, come to the cabin,” David whispered excitedly.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have a surprise for you!”

“It’s not another bonfire is it?”

“As wonderful as a surprise as that would be, no, it’s not.”

“Give it to me now then.”

“It’s not something I can just hide in my pocket.”

This piqued Max’s interest. He gave David a once-over, frowning at the happiness radiating off the man in waves.

“Fine, I’ll stop by. It better be worth it.”

David nodded eagerly and Max let the curtain drop in front of the man’s face.

“Max!” Preston called out impatiently. “No sneaking off! It’s your job to make sure everything goes smoothly behind the scenes.”

“Really couldn’t have chosen anyone worse for the job,” Max mumbled to an already sweating Neil as he rejoined the group.

“Trade you,” Nikki grumbled, plucking at the hem of her servant’s outfit. The dress and high collar looked downright unnatural on her. “Man I wish I could be Hamlet, or the Uncle. Nerris and Harrison are so lucky! They get swords!”

“Nikki, they die in the end,” Neil interjected.

“Even better!”

A clash of cymbals from Nurf signaled the start of the play and the campers were off. Max had a lot of fun backstage: making random sound effects with the instruments when Nurf wasn’t looking, knocking the set designs over when Ered made her wrathful (though still coolly stoic) ghostly entrance, and going (maybe a little too much) overboard with the fake blood during the death scenes. Seriously, Nerris looked like she was having some terrible flashback when the “blood” soaked her head and even Space Kid looked catatonic in the audience.

Gwen had to interrupt the play to carry both near-hysterical campers away for some recovery time. Max was banned from even looking at the props, and Preston gallantly took Nerris’ place to finish the play. The end reaction was still the same and the Quartermaster at least waited until Preston left the stage before mopping up the thrown tomatoes.

With the others occupied with clean-up and praising Ered’s performance, Max snuck away towards the counselor cabin just as Gwen was easing Nerris and Space Kid out, shock blankets over their shoulders.

Max gave a wave to both as he passed them but neither seemed to see him. He shrugged and continued towards the still open cabin door only to be met with the impenetrable wall of Gwen’s legs.

“Evening Gwen,” he drawled with exaggerated sweetness. “David’s expecting me.”

“David’s currently trying to fix the mess you made,” Gwen countered coldly.

“I’ll wait.” He met her gaze with a challenge as the two stared at each other in a stand-off.

At last, either because she had admitted defeat or because she had decided it wasn’t worth it to have a staring contest with a child, Gwen sighed and stepped aside. “Come in, I guess.”

With a triumphant smile of teeth, Max ambled inside, closing the door behind him.

“Go over there and sit still,” Gwen commanded, pointing to David’s side of the room. “Touch anything, I break your fingers.”

“Threatening a child, Gwen?” Max asked with feigned appall.

“I don’t think you’re even human.”

“You are the expert on that, aren’t you, what with all that crap you watch.”

“Hey, unless you have two hearts and a British accent, you don’t get to question my knowledge.”

“Sure.”

Max glanced around in search of something to keep him entertained while he waited. To his dismay, the coffee pot was empty. Gwen clearly knew David had been expecting Max. Damned woman must have prepared for his arrival by removing the only thing Max truly did love in the world. He snapped a glare at her. Gwen wasn’t fast enough to hide her sly smirk behind her open book.

Max made a move to turn on the tv.

“Already unplugged it.”

“Why?” Max spun on Gwen in exasperation.

“I’m reading,” she replied simply, pitilessly.

“So what are we supposed to do?” he asked, hands gesturing to the boring interior of the cabin. “Talk?”

“No, I’m going to keep reading and you’re going to sit quietly.”

Max grumbled out a few choice curse words. He glanced at the door and contemplated leaving; just come back later and hope David had returned by then. But he really wanted to know what his surprise was. Last time David had offered a prize to the camp during that Sparrow crap, Max had immediately called him out on it. He knew the moment David said it that there was no real tangible prize. And he had been right.

Now though. He believed David. The man had been too excited for the surprise to simply be some heartfelt words or intangible metaphor that only carried emotional substance. Max was still a kid, no matter how jaded. He didn’t want emotional substance. He wanted something physical. And he believed David actually had something physical. He’d decide in the moment whether or not he actually wanted the thing, but right now he was willing to wait (with stupid, pompous Gwen) to get it.

Coffee would have made the waiting easier though.

Claiming David’s chair, Max waited with thinning patience.

“What is that moron doing?” Max asked aloud only a few minutes later.

“A damn big favor for you, actually.” Gwen answered absently.

“I meant in the camp.”

“I know what you meant.”

Max straightened in his seat and eyed Gwen. “You know what my surprise is.” It wasn’t a question.

Gwen’s smile wasn’t one of malice at knowing something Max didn’t. It was one of fondness at knowing what David had done. She didn’t look up at Max when she replied, “Yeah, I do.”

“What is it?”

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

“I’ll act surprised. Unless it’s something stupid. Then that reaction will be pretty straightforward.”

“You’ll like it.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“I’m omnipotent like that.”

“Careful, your liberal arts degree is showing.”

“Watch it, boy.”

Max stuck his tongue out at her and Gwen (adult, mature Gwen), stuck her tongue right back. Max huffed out a laugh and Gwen’s lips curved upwards slightly. With this newfound goodwill (though that may be too generous a word), Max was about to suggest watching tv again, when the front door flew open.

“Is he here, Gwen?” David asked instantly, breathless.

Gwen lazily pointed a finger to Max just as the boy hopped off the chair to pad up to David. David turned his dazzling grin down to Max. “Wait right here. Just be a second.”

David practically skipped into his room, leaving Max blinking after him.

“Whelp,” Gwen said as she stood with a stretch. Max swiveled his attention to her. “I’m going to go to bed and let you two have this moment.” She walked passed Max and ruffled the boy’s hair with something strangely akin to affection. “See you tomorrow, squirt.”

Max slapped her hands away though it was more out of habit than actual repulsion. With a dry chuckle, Gwen retreated into her room, leaving Max alone. The boy turned back to David’s room just as the man capered out again, something very tangible hiding behind his back.

Max felt an unfamiliar jolt of excitement flutter in his stomach as the man knelt before him.

“This is for you,” David announced, pride sparkling in his eyes even as one hand went to rub at the back of his neck.

From behind his back, he revealed what looked to be an exact copy of his guitar; the largest difference being that the instrument was undeniably smaller. Max looked down at the shrunken guitar. It was made with the same light wood as David’s with the same silvery strings, except this one had only four unlike David’s six.

“It’s called a ukulele,” David provided in the ensuing silence. “It’s basically a small guitar. The sound is a little higher but most of the same rules apply for playing. You should be able to play this with much more ease.”

Max continued to stare. Anxiety bubbling in his chest, David held the instrument out closer to the Max. The boy obediently lifted his hands to take it. It seemed to fit perfectly in his grip, the weight of it light and inviting. His eyes trailed along it as he moved one hand to grip the neck, fingers curling around it perfectly. The wood was worn and smooth. There were, however, a few dings and chips in the body and one of the tuning pegs looked a little rusty.

David seemed to notice Max examining the rust. “I’m sorry,” he started hurriedly. “It’s not new. I bought it at one of the used thrift shops in town. I – um – I can’t afford a new one right now. But give me some time and I can get you something nicer.”

The money David had been saving to buy himself a new guitar had gone into the ukulele gripped tight in Max’s hands. And now the idiot was offering to save even more, not for himself, but for Max. Max, the little asshole from summer camp who did nothing but antagonize the man every chance he got.

“A-and, I, uh, I got you this,” David continued, resolve and smile slipping at Max’s continual silence and unreadable expression. He pulled out two well-read books. Well, they were more like a stack of pages stapled haphazardly together but they had been sold as “books.”

“This one is a beginner’s guide to playing the ukulele,” David explained, holding up first one, then the other. “And this one is all sheet music for some easy songs. It even includes pictures of where to put your fingers. In case…” He paused, hand at his neck again, “In case you don’t want me to teach you anymore.”

Max finally lifted his gaze to David and the man swallowed heavily. It was the same expression he had seen staring back at him back when he had first played his lullaby for Max: bright aqua eyes made brighter (and impossibly young) by the threat of oncoming tears. The usual hard line of his mouth (constantly pulled down in a frown) trembled. And there was something in those eyes. They weren’t hard and unforgiving with their usual level of overall hate and frustration with the world. There was something else, something soft and vulnerable and it made David’s heart ache.

“This is mine?”

“Yes of course! …Do you like it?” David asked in a small voice, eyes wide with his own vulnerability of his thought-out gift being rejected by the boy he just wanted to see succeed and have a happy life.

In answer, Max laid the ukulele gently on the ground before stepping up to David and wrapping his tiny arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” the boy’s voice wavered, words muffled against David’s shoulder. Max’s grip tightened.

The initial shock was quick to pass and David wrapped his arms around Max, hugging him close. He nestled his cheek against the boy’s hair. “You’re welcome, Max.”

Max hung on to him for a good ten seconds. David could feel every stuttering breath and heavy swallow as the boy wrestled with his emotions to calm himself down. David let him take his time, rubbing soothing circles into the boy’s back.

When the sniffling had subsided, Max pulled away, rubbing his sleeves over his eyes. David kept his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Sorry about your bandana,” Max mumbled, glancing at the tear stains that darkened the yellow cloth.

David touched the damp fabric but only smiled.

“Hey!” Gwen interrupted, stepping back into the room. Max startled, eyes going wide and he scrubbed vigorously at his face. “Is your moment over? It’s getting stuffy in here.”

“Then open a fucking window,” Max snapped back, glaring at Gwen. If she noticed his red eyes, she didn’t mention it.

“You’re just in time, Gwen,” David said brightly to deter the foreseeable argument. “Max was just about to play his new ukulele!”

“What did I tell you about listening to noobs not know what they’re doing?” Gwen retorted without heat. Despite her words, she returned to her chair and threw her legs up over the armrest.

“C’mon, Max” David said, bringing out his guitar out of seemingly thin air. There was a large clip on the neck that tampered down all six strings.

“A capo,” David explained without Max needing to ask. “With this, and by using only the first four strings, I can play my guitar like a ukulele, just like you!”

David made it sound like Max was already some prodigy ukulele player; like it was some high honor to be able to play with him, to play like him. Max turned his head to hide his smile from Gwen but allowed David to catch the side of it. The man was beaming that solar grin again.

“Just get teaching, already.” Max said with a roll of his eyes. David made a high-pitched giddy little sound.

Still on the floor, David backed up to lean against his chair as Max scooped up his ukulele and shifted in front of the enthusiastic man. They both gripped the neck of their instruments, the wood slotting against their palms perfectly. Max felt a certain thrill at the feeling of the strings underneath his fingertips, and the promise of beautiful music only a strum away.

“Now, copy me,” David instructed gently. He pinched the strings down on a specific fret and strummed. Max copied the movement. Together they both let out a harmonious strum, the deeper sound of David’s guitar layering with Max’s higher sound beautifully.

“A natural!” David gushed.

“Guess there’s some hope left for the kid,” Gwen agreed.

Max stuck his tongue out at her again since his hands were too busy to flip her off. Gwen returned the gesture good-naturedly.

“Try this one,” David encouraged, moving his fingers. Max matched the movement and strummed. “Now this.” Strum. “And this one.” Strum. “Last one.” Strum.

“Now all four together.”

He wasn’t fast and his fingers hesitated before each placement but Max did it.

“Again.”

He did it again. A little easier, a little faster.

“Keep going. Don’t stop.”

Max played the same four chords again. Upon completing his third loop, David started to play along. The overlapping sounds turned seamlessly into a song with Max providing the background music and David filling in with plucks on his guitar where the lyrics would be.

Max’s face lit up upon realizing the tune. And then David started to sing.

 _“My life is brilliant, my love is pure_  
_I saw an angel, of that I'm sure._  
  
_It's my life, it's now or never_  
_I ain't gonna live forever_  
  
_Can't read my, can't read my_  
_No, he can't read my poker face_  
  
_Forever young, I wanna be forever young._  
  
_I won't hesitate no more, no more_  
_It cannot wait, I'm yours._  
  
_Lipstick stains_  
_On the front lobe of my left side brains_  
_I knew I wouldn't forget you._  
  
_If I could, then I would_  
_I'll go wherever you will go._  
  
_No woman, no cry._

_I come from a land down under._

_Yeah mama this surely is a dream._

Max was laughing as he continued to play the same four chords that made up the base of so many songs. Some he knew, some he didn’t, but David was singing with his eyes closed and a smile on his face, and Gwen was tapping her foot along, and, oh god, if this was what happiness felt like, Max never wanted it to end.

Late into the night, Max and David played together. Gwen sat with her book, pretending to read, and listened to the notes dance around each other. She’ll wait until after the concert to send David the picture she took of Max’s hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song David is singing/playing is "4 Chords" by Axis of Awesome. I highly suggest giving it a watch and listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oOlDewpCfZQ
> 
> Coming soon: more fics of David playing his guitar and Max playing his ukulele.


End file.
